writing your own

I actually really love writing. I buy special journals and carry them around in my bag. I come home after work and take out my journal and my pen (yes, I have a special pen) to write, each night… sometimes I eek out a paragraph and sometimes pages just seem to flow from the fountain pen.

My ideas come in the shower (of course), on the commute over the Golden Gate Bridge (it’s hard not to be inspired), while listening to podcasts or news reports (never - at least not yet - while listening to novels being read) or just while writing about what is happening during the week. My notebook is some crazy mix of observational journal with a little flowery or straight up writing mixed in. I started just by deciding, I want to write more - so I’ll carry this journal around and write as often as possible. Now, I feel almost naked without it.

I often find it difficult to just slow down enough to steady my thoughts so they flow coherently. That’s my struggle - not that the ideas don’t arrive, but that I find it tough to take the time to flesh them out on paper (or on the screen). Some days (mornings or nights) I find myself searching for a distraction - TV, music, a book… all inspiration worthy tools, but I often use them as a crutch to forego writing because soaking up someone else’s work is easier than creating your own.

I am pretty sure we call this procrastination. An aliment I never thought I suffered from - but then again, I’ve never tried to be so open about what I, myself, am thinking or feeling.

Writing someone else’s thoughts is easy. Sometimes writing your own is a little be tough.